The Untimely Death of a Great Legend
by Ghost Peacock
Summary: Rango meets his match in an unexpected and tragic event. First Rango fan fiction and the darkest thing I've ever written. I'd like nice feedback though.


_**The untimely death of a great legend**_

**By Franki Lew **

**Genre: Tragedy **

**Rango, Excelsior, Beans, Priscilla, and the movie "Rango" does not belong to me. It belongs to Nickelodeon movies. The villain and story belongs to me though. **

**Rated: PG+ **

**Disclaimer: This is the first ever Rango fan fiction I've ever written. I'm honestly impressed, even if it's sort of vague and a lot of description was cut out. This is the darkest fan fiction I've ever written so far, even in comparison to my 9 works. Normally, I don't get that upset when I write something depressing in a story, this time however I couldn't help be shed a little tear down my face. Rango's my favorite character, so it hurt so much to have him go through all this. The only other thing I can say is that I don't think I'll keep him dead forever. No, I'm not gonna make a resurrection fic, but I think this is mainly just an alternate universe. I have much, MUCH light-hearted idea's for Rango fics that revolve around him being alive and his romance with Beans.**

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><p>It was as dry as any other night in the desert. The Spirit of the West whistled a tune across the landscape, breaking into harmony with a near-by coyote howl. The townspeople of Dirt were settling down after another long day of relishing in the river running through their town. The abundance of water didn't get rid of their problems all together but it certainly made things brighter then they were several years ago. Crime had decreased so much that killings only occurred every two or three months now. The desert dwellers felt protected thanks to Sheriff Rango.<p>

At the time the chameleon was busy making sure every one in town was asleep, or at least in doors. If there was anything said about the desert, it was very beautiful at night. Rango could sit back and receipt theatre quotes for as long as he wanted but it didn't long before he grew tired. Soon all he wanted to do was go home to the ranch he lived at with his wife Beans. But no, duty always came before personal needs, 40% of the time any way. Just as he was ready to head home his roadrunner steed, Excelsior, began to wheeze uncontrollably.

"Whoa, you all right Excelsior?" Rango asked to which the roadrunner almost knocked him off his back. He then remembered he forgot to feed the roadrunner all day. Whipping Excelsior in the direction of the stables he'd let him have a quick bite then finish up his routine on the way home.

They soon arrived at the riverbank the stables were located next to. Rango tied Excelsior to a post and let him eat. Just as he turned around to get him pail of water, he saw a shadowy figure at the riverbank. Though it was hard to see, Rango realized the figure was bending over and taking a drink of water. Most likely it was just a drifter in desperate need of water. He probably didn't know citizens weren't allowed to drink from the river.

"Excuse me sir, drinking water from the river is strictly prohibited here in Dirt," Rango said merely doing his job.

The figure looked up, showing it's face in the light of the moon, the only true light for miles. It's enormous ears and golden fur was now visible under his shawl and ten-gallon hat. It was a fennec fox, a creature that was not local to these parts or even this continent. It stared directly at Excelsior with a satisfied look on its face. "Try and stop me bug eyes," it replied.

Feeling tested Rango took out his gun and loaded it. "That's not a wise thing to say in these parts son. I'm the law around here and unless you take my warning I'm gonna have to give you a fee."

Narrowing his two beady black eyes the foxy foe leapt from his end of the bank to Rango's. He turned, "you'll have to catch me first," he said smiling a big, long, nasty grin that curled the tips of his mustache. Then the fox darted off into the desert on all fours, a dust cloud appearing behind him. Coughing a bit Rango packed his gun away and hoped on Excelsior.

"Not in my town you don't," he said. He steadily followed the cloud of dust, incapable of seeing the actual fox. It would take quiet some time to even get near this crook, much less catch him. Once the cloud of dust lead him over a hill however Rango had second thoughts about this. Something didn't seem quite right. Perhaps the fox was leading him away for a reason, as if to get him to leave his post so that another team of bandits would come to the town once he was far enough away. That couldn't be, he didn't see anyone else there. Rango knew he could probably take him any way. Before the sheriff could think of this a bit more they were over the hill and right next to a field of Spanish Daggers. The cloud of dust was still in sight but as Excelsior ran towards it the figure causing the cloud was nowhere to be seen. Surprised, Rango tugged on the reigns and pulled Excelsior back. "W-wher'd you go? Come on I don't got all night."

As if by command the fox jumped suddenly out of the brush and pounced upon Rango and his steed. The fall caused Rango an unbearable amount of pain. The skin on his arm was deeply cut and he couldn't move his leg. Bits of blood pooled out of his arm and onto the cold dirt. As if the knowledge of a broken limb wasn't enough, Rango listened to the sounds of Excelsior getting ripped to shreds. He couldn't see most of what was going on other then a wing being flung his way. He could however hear everything that was happening. Excelsior let out a single ear-wrenching scream in hopes of his owner saving him. Said scream was loud enough for someone, perhaps over the hill even, to hear.

All of a sudden the screaming stopped. The fox perked its long ears up and walked out of the bushes where it had dismembered Rango's steed. Smacking his lips he said in his sinister voice, "that was one good roadrunner." The fox seemed to only be into walking on four legs and had no gun on him, thus Rango felt like he had an advantage.

"You best be puttin' yer' hands up in the air," Rango said, "I can kill a man with one bullet."

"Oh really?"

Rango sat up and reached for his gun only to find that it wasn't there. He saw his pistol shine in the moonlight a few feet away when the fox came up, took the gun, and threw it against a rock apart from Rango.

"I don't need me a gun," said the fox, "I can kill a man with one bite. Like my momma said, work with what you're made with."

With that, the fennec fox planted its paw firmly into Rango's stomach. It bared its teeth and made a long scratch across his face. "Where's yer' loot?" he asked. "C'mon sheriff I know you got some. Don't make this any harder on yourself."

Though it was technically giving up Rango pointed to the bag that had fallen off a few feet away. Beans had packed it with everything he needed for the day. "You might find something you like in there, but I don't have any _loot_ on me."

The fox took his time to take the bag, sniff it, and look inside, roughly throwing Rango's belongings on the ground. "Hm, for the town sheriff yer' a pretty pathetic lizard." The fox turned around to see Rango making an effort to crawl over to the gun, dragging himself along as he did so. "That's a lot of movin' around for someone in your position ain't it?"

Without any other word the fennec fox jumped forth and bit Rango on his potbelly. With the chameleon screaming in agony, the fox gleefully raised him up and threw his body into the same rock formation as his gun. The lizard's lifeless form stumbled down the rock till he landed with a crackling sound on his back. Rango couldn't remember a time in his life where his pain was worse then it was now. The fox could've finish the job but knew that leaving him probably would result in death any way. He walked pass the bleeding sheriff and began to boast.

"While you lie there, I hope you don't mind if I mosey on into yer' town back there to see just what they have. I'd take one of them folk for dinner but that roadrunner sort of filled me up. I'll have to see."

Rango's eyes widened. The pain would only get worse, but he knew this bandit was bad news if he did this much to him without using a weapon. Sure, there were plenty of creatures in Dirt that were much stronger then him but that wasn't the point. The point was, and he knew it, he had a duty as sheriff over his own safety. Luckily for Rango the fox was to busy bragging to notice him reach for the still loaded gun.

"Told ya' sheriff," said the fox, "ya' don't need no bullet to start the job, hee hee."

Incapable of speaking, Rango thought his response. 'No, but you do need one to get the job done.'

The sheriff fired three shots. He would have shot four but having heard the fox scream, he was positive he hit the target. After the final shot the fox stumbled about, fell into the bushes, and promptly died.

Rango dragged himself over to a nearby cactus and sat underneath it, an oozing trail of blood pooling behind him. Something in his back was broken, he wasn't sure what though. His face was mangled and he had a nasty black eye. Loss of blood made it hard to see out the other eye any way. He felt his stomach, the place that hurt the most. For sure something was punctured and as Rango looked down he could see the outline of his rib through his now red shirt. Rango tried to call for help. He could barley even whisper, there was simply too much blood in the way of his throat. His mind raced and his vision decreased, all the smells in the world turned into that of iron and mucus. Several teeth fell from his jaw, soon followed by his long chameleon tongue that drooped from its place. The only thing that didn't instantly disappear was Rango's ability to hear. He heard, very faintly of course, the sound of people saying his name.

"That bird call came from up here and- Sheriff Rango!"

"What happened?"

"Did they shoot em?"

"Sheriff, can ya' here us?"

He never answered them.

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><p>Everyone was devastated when a group of townsfolk brought the sheriff back, barley able to breath. The doctor said his lungs were punctured and his ribs were broken. "There's just no way of getting him new organs, in time any way," he said.<p>

Funerals were once rarely spoken of in Dirt, especially if it was for a sheriff. So many townsfolk died for stupid or strange causes that there was never any reason for a huge gathering to be held. Friends and family would simply come to a grave and pay their respects. Not this time. Rango had always been an untouchable thing. Never strong enough to really survive yet somehow he made it through all those years. Now it seemed as though the Spirit of the West's shadow had finally dawned on him.

There were quite a few people who said something or contributed to the memorial. Someone said a quick speech, reminisced on a memory of the sheriff or reenacted an old play in his honor. Waffles the horneytoad and Spoons the mouse had the longest speeches while the local mariachi band played a lamentful ballad. Priscilla, a mouse who was awfully young when she first met the sheriff, escorted the now widowed Beans to the gathering. Beans refused to say anything to any one that day; in fact she mostly just sat down in a chair discouraged. During the actual burial she hid her face in sorrow, her eyes sore from her tears. The townsfolk stayed as the coffin was lowered in and a gravestone reading "Sheriff Rango" was placed over it. Everyone said a prayer to the Spirit of the West, paid their respects with a flower or picture of some sort, then somberly walked back to their houses. The sun was biding its goodbye to the desert and the moon came into full view. Only one person was left standing over the grave. Unaccompanied by Priscilla the desert iguana pulled out a silver sheriff's badge from her pocket and put it at the graves feet.

"Polished it for ya' honey," she said, a final tear going down her face. "Just the way you like it."


End file.
